


peachy keen

by problematiquefave



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Kissing, Past Relationship(s), Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27438352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematiquefave/pseuds/problematiquefave
Summary: Cordelia's lip gloss tastes of peaches.Willow comes to realize that she likes peaches. And Cordelia.
Relationships: Cordelia Chase/Willow Rosenberg
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29
Collections: Femslash Exchange 2020





	peachy keen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cdybedahl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cdybedahl/gifts).



Cordelia’s kiss tastes of her peach lip balm.

 _Cordelia’s kiss_.

Willow is kissing Cordelia.

Backed against the wall of a dead end hallway, the school around them has fallen quiet. Most of the student have gone home for the day. Willow’s heart races and her body responds while her mind attempts to catch up. _Attempts_ because she doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in a hell dimension of understanding. All she knows is Cordelia’s body boxes her in and her mouth is simultaneously soft and hard. When those things leave her – when Cordelia steps back – her head is empty.

She breathes through parted lips, looking at the other girl with confusion. Cordelia swipes the back of her hand over her mouth. Her eyes burn.

“I don’t get it,” she growls. “ _I don’t get it._ You’re not _that_ good a kisser – not better than me.”

Willow still doesn’t understand, but it’s beginning to dawn on her that this might have something to do with Xander. And because of that, she defaults to the same lines she’s been repeating over and over since their affair was found out.

“I’m sorry. Really, I am. It wasn’t—”

“ _I don’t care_.” Cordelia’s glare is knife-sharp and causes Willow’s jaw to shut with a click. “What it was or wasn’t – it happened. And I don’t get it. He had _me_.” She scoffs, shaking her head. “You’re _nothing_ in comparison to me. Whatever.”

She spins on her heels, hair flying, and stalks away – leaving Willow leaning against the wall, brow furrowed, paralyzed with confusion. Nothing connects. Nothing makes sense.

The kiss lurks in the back of her mind as she grabs her bag from the library and bids goodbye to Buffy, Giles, and Faith. She almost misses Buffy asking her if she’s okay – too busy puzzling out what just happened, but she manages to catch it and squeaks out that she’s fine.

It’s still there as she solves equations for her math homework and as she brushes her teeth for bed. Still there when she flicks out the lights of her bedroom and lays her head on her pillow. Still there when she closes her eyes and seeks dreamland. Still there, along with the taste of peaches.

Oz’s voice is soft and quiet when he breaks it to her. “I don’t think I can be with you anymore.”

They’re not alone – the hallway is full of students – but it feels like there’s a bubble surrounding the two of them and his locker.

“Oh.” _No_. He’s breaking up with her? “Okay.” It’s not okay.

He nods, sharp and a little mechanical. “Okay.”

She wants to call out to him. Wants to _tell him_ that it’s not okay. But once more, she finds herself paralyzed – unable to make even a sound, let alone form multiple sounds into a question. _What do you want from me? Can’t I fix us? What will I do without you?_

Instead, she watches him pivot and disappear into the mass of students.

Oz breaks up with her four days after Cordelia hunted her down and kissed her. It was the Monday afterwards – and she thinks, that night, she’ll finally get the memory of that stupid kiss out of her head. That she’ll think and obsess and stress out over Oz as she drifts off.

She thinks wrong and wakes up tasting peaches.

“Can we go to the Bronze tonight?” Willow asks Buffy as they shelve books in the stacks. If they’re going to hang around the library so often, Giles will put them to work.

She doesn’t look at Buffy as she asks but she can feel the weight of her friend’s gaze on her shoulders. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I just—” She sucks in a breath. “I need to distract myself, you know?” She finally looks, hoping to find understanding in Buffy’s expression. Relief settles her stomach when she finds it, even though she knows that understanding probably stems from Buffy’s painful history with Angel.

“Okay.” Buffy tries to grin; Willow appreciates the gesture. “We’ll go after Giles is done with me. Faith can take patrols.”

Giles is reluctant to let them go and Faith is disappointed to miss a night at the bronze. Maybe they don’t get it, but Buffy doesn’t take no for an answer. Willow sits back and lets it play out. In the end, they both relent, and Buffy and Willow find themselves in line to enter the Bronze. She’s suddenly not so sure this is a good idea, but she steels herself instead of hopping out of line.

“I’m going to get us drinks,” Buffy says as they enter the Bronze. “Grab us a table?”

Smoke tickles her lungs, causing Willow to cough as she nods.

Buffy beelines to the counter as Willow heads towards the scattering of tables lining the dance floor. She slides on to a creased leather stool, resting her elbows on the table and looking out at the dancers. Bodies writhe and contort, pressing and blending together. She doesn’t see their faces until she does. Until she sees Cordelia’s. Willow audibly swallows.

The clunk of a mason jar glass on the table snaps her out of her surprise. Her eyes dart to Buffy’s face then to the orange-ish liquid in the glasses.

“Peach lemonade,” Buffy says, shrugging. “It sounded nice.”

It doesn’t sound nice to Willow. The pit in her stomach deepens as she lifts the glass, capturing the straw with her lips. Even when she tastes it – sweet, tangy, hauntingly familiar – it’s nice, but it’s not, but she’ll still drink it.

“Is that Cordelia?”

Willow blinks. She follows Buffy’s gaze. “Is it?” she asks, like she hadn’t just spotted her.

“Yeah, definitely.” Buffy frowns. “She doesn’t look like she’s having fun. Doubt she’d be happier with us.”

“Probably,” Willow says, quickly taking another sip of her drink so she doesn’t have to say more.

Which becomes the pattern – Buffy talking, Willow giving her short answers to show she’s listening as she sucks down her drink. It works well until liquid does what liquid does.

A lull in their conversation gives Willow the opportunity to interject. “I need to go to the restroom.”

She slides off her seat, picking her way through the crowd to her destination. The room is empty when she enters, but she hears the door swing open as she relieves herself. She exits to wash her hands and finds Cordelia at the counter, reapplying her lipstick in the mirror. Willows freezes as mirror-Cordelia’s eyes flick to her. Yet Cordelia says nothing.

Steeling herself, Willow takes a step forward. Then, another. She reaches the sink beside Cordelia and turns on the faucet, shoving her hands into the steady stream of cold water.

“Is Xander with you?” Cordelia asks.

Willow pumps a dollop of soap into her palm. “No.”

She huffs, and Willow can hear the rustle of her purse as she puts her lipstick away. When she finishes washing her hands, she looks up, expecting Cordelia to be gone. She’s not. Her purse is slung over her shoulder and her arms are crossed over her chest. Her gaze is just as sharp as it was the other day in the dead end hallway. It should make her nervous – it _does_ make her nervous – but it also causes her stomach to flutter in way Willow wouldn’t describe as nervous.

Her brain supplies the thought: _are you going to kiss me again?_

It follows that that with another: _maybe I should kiss her_.

Instead, Willow asks, “What do you want? Do you want me to apologize again? To get on me knees and beg for your forgiveness? Do your homework for the rest of the year as penance?” The boldness surprises them both.

Cordelia’s throat bobs as she swallows. She looks away.

The boldness grows. “Do you want to make-out again?”

She feels possessed as Cordelia looks back at her in shock. As she slides one foot in front of the another. As she closes the small gap between them. Cordelia is taller than her and Willow has to rise on the balls of her feet to reach her lips. To kiss her again.

It takes only a second for Cordelia to respond – and her response is just as surprising as Willow’s actions. Her hands wrap around Willow’s upper arms and she returns the kiss. Returns it with teeth and tongue and saliva. With a headiness and a heat that does things to Willow’s insides.

They break apart. Willow returns to the ground, breathing heavily. Cordelia’s pupils are wide, and her fresh lipstick is smudged. Distantly, Willow realizes she probably has some of it on her lips too.

A small laugh escapes Cordelia. “Okay,” she says. Her voice is breathy. “Maybe I get it.”

“I don’t.” Especially since she’s going to go home and question her sexuality. Probably. If she’s not plagued with thoughts of Cordelia again. “But I kind of want to do it again.”

She huffs and juts out her chin. “I’m not the type of girl who does bathroom hook-ups”—the insinuation sparks a fire in her cheeks—“but you could start with buying me a drink.”

 _Oh_. _Okay_. “They’ve got a nice peach lemonade tonight.”

Cordelia grins. “I like peaches.”


End file.
